Circle Rewoven
by Elucreh
Summary: Sandry welcomes her foster-siblings home and continues to grow in responsibility. Yes, there is romance, but it will NOT be the main focus. Ship:BriarEvvy. Other than that, wait and see...Sorry, this fic is dead.
1. Reunited

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Okay, to begin with, **Disclaimer: **_None of these characters, or at least very few of them, are mine—and if you recognize them, they don't belong to me. They're the property of Tamora Pierce and her representatives. _

This story is set in Emelan, mainly at Duke's Citadel, Summersea. The story opens after Daja has returned and settled in the palace with Sandry.

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Sitting peacefully with her embroidery in the sunny room, Sandy listened to Pasco recite the four ways to create a square over and over again while she concentrated on a difficult stitch. 

"Milady?"

"Yes, Dreda, what is it?" 

"There's a caravan here…the man in charge asked to see you." 

"A—caravan?" Sandy asked absentmindedly, still concentrating on the stitch. "Did he give his name?"

"Yes, m'lady. He said to tell you, Briar Vinespun."

"Bri—"she jumped up, her Namornese loop ruined by being dropped headlong onto the floor. Taking off down the long hallway, she mentally shrieked, _Briar Moss, how COULD you do that to me?_

Bewildered, Pasco took off after her. "Lady Sandry? Who's—" Then he, too, broke into a run. He had to see this, he had to…

Finally arriving in the courtyard, Sandry hurled herself at the tall, olive-skinned boy standing easily beside a camel. 

"You dreadful boy!" she said, muffled against him. "Don't you EVER do that again." 

Briar grinned down at her. "You're getting my shirt wet, crying on it." 

She pulled away, laughing and wiping her eyes. "It seems to me we've had this conversation before."

"Rosethorn," she turned to embrace the older woman, "I've missed you so much." Pulling back, she grabbed a hand from each of them. "Oh, it's WONDERFUL to see you two again."

"But," she added, craning her neck to see her foster-brother's face, "how did you get so high up?" 

"He grew," Rosethorn said dryly. "He seems to have a talent for it. You haven't exactly stayed the same yourself, you know." 

"Yes. Dreadful, isn't it? But you, Rosethorn, haven't changed a—" 

A girl, standing half-behind a mewling basket, caught her attention. Recovering her composure, Sandy moved forward, hand outstretched. "And you must be Evvy." 

"Oh, sorry, Sandry." Briar hastily interjected. "Evvy, allow me to present Mistress Sandrilene Spindlespun. _Pahani_ Sandry. Sandry, Evumeimei Dingzai, of Yanjing, my student."

"And you must meet…"she looked around for him, then beckoned him forward, "my student, Pasco Acalon. Pasco, this is Dedicate Rosethorn, one of my first and among my dearest teachers. Master Briar, who you've already heard so much about from Mistress Daja and me, and Evumeimei Dingzai, Master Briar's student in stone magic."

"Pleased to meet you," Pasco murmured, making an elegant bow over Evvy's hand. Standing face to face, they studied each other. A chord of recognition sounded in the boy, as he watched Evvy carefully not watch her teacher. 

"Now, you _will_ stay here with me, won't you, Briar? I know Rosie wants to get back to Discipline—has Lark even seen you two yet?—but I want you and Evvy here with me."

"I have seen her, but Briar and Evvy stayed behind with the baggage. And I suspect she will be relieved, not to have to live with so many cats—she's allergic, you know." 

"Good. Then that's settled. Furaji, will you take Master Vinespun's things to—let me see—the ebony suite in the north wing, and Mistress Dingzai's to the green rooms on my floor of the west wing.

"Now, you all must come with me to the forge, and see Daja. By the time we get back, your rooms will be ready."

Chatting merrily, Sandry linked an arm each with Rosethorn and Briar, and began pulling them to the left, where the smiths were working. _Daja, put down whatever you're working on and come meet us, _she called. _Briar and Rosethorn and Evvy are here._

Still watching Evvy closely, Pasco noticed a slight rise and fall in her chest. Silently, he offered her his arm and began to walk her after the others. Awkward conversation ensued. As they discussed her trip, her room, he saw her eyes drinking in the familiar grace of Lady Sandry's movements and the way the sun glinted in her hair. 

More hugs and hands were being offered when they arrived at the entrance to the forges. "Evvy, come meet Mistress Forgespun." 

Introduction over, Sandry suggested that Daja walk with them to settle Briar and Evvy in. The students once again trailed behind their teachers, Evvy wistfully tracing Sandry's well-known shape and familiar flitty gestures.

"You don't have to worry," Pasco assured Evvy gravely, his voice pitched low.

"What?" she asked, startled. 

"You don't need to worry. There's nothing like that between them. They're brother and sister, that's all." 

"Oh—really?" her hope in her eyes…

"Really. Neither of them thinks of the other that way."

"How do you know—I mean, how did you—guess?"

"Same answer to both questions. I've—been studying the question for some time myself."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's impossible. Just another dream…but what I was wanting to tell you is—I don't think yours is hopeless."

"You don't?"

"Nope. I mean—Lady Sandry's a noble, heiress to a fortune, years older than I am…but you—you're the same class, the same background, and he's fond of you already."

"I know, but—"

"No, listen. I've heard his letters to Lady Sandry, they're full of you…and she'll help, I know she will, she wants to see him taken care of…and she likes what she knows of you."

"Oh, I couldn't—"

"I'll ask her."

"But—"

"Look…it's something I can do for someone in the same boat. All right?"


	2. Plans

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A/N: _The disclaimer still applies. _

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After introducing Evvy to the maid who would help her with her things, Sandy realized that Pasco's lesson time was over for the day. 

"Pasco, you can go back to the studios. And please tell Aunt that Master Briar and Evvy are here." 

"May I…speak with you, Lady Sandry?" he asked quietly. 

"Of course," she stepped outside and closed the door behind her. "What can I do?" 

"Well, Lady…it's Evvy. You know—you were telling the little monster that you wanted Master Briar to have someone to look after him?"

"Yes…"

"I think—Evvy wants to apply for the job. But—she doesn't know how. And I thought—maybe—you could help her out—put the right clothes on her, and things."

His teacher stared at him, surprised. "Of course…I know just what to do. I'm so glad…but—Pasco, how did you know…?" She studied him for a moment. "Oh. Oh, Pasco, I am sorry, I—" 

"It doesn't matter. Just—do what you can for Evvy, all right?"

"I will." 

Pasco turned and took off, embarrassed by the truth she had glimpsed. Sandry stared after him with lingering regret, then recollected that there was at least one problem she could solve. 

"Well, let's get you unpacked, Evvy, and then we can see what needs to be done for you."

"What, _Pahani_? What do you mean?"

"Well, I want to go over your wardrobe, of course. I'm sure you must know by now what Dedicate Lark and I have magic with. And I want to see that you have everything you need. And, of course, we'll get Lark here in the next day or so to help us make some decisions and advise me on your ball gown…"

"Ball?" she squeaked. "Me?"

"Of course. Now that you and Briar are home, I want to welcome you properly. Daja wouldn't let me do her alone, but she can't object now. You will tell Lark I'd like to see her in a few days, won't you, Rosie?" 

"Yes. In fact, I'll go and tell her now." 

"Thank you." Sandry hugged the older woman tightly once more. "Oh, how I've missed you." 

"Don't go getting all soft on me," Rosethorn said gruffly. "I missed you too, you know." 

"Give my best to Lark and Frostpine."

"I will."

"Dredre, show Dedicate Rosethorn out and then come back here to help us finish with Mistress Evvy's unpacking, please."

"Yes, milady." 

"Now, Evvy, let me see what you have in the way of skirts and blouses, and then I'll leave you to unpack and get dressed for dinner. You and Master Briar will sit at the head table with Mistress Daja, His Grace, and the rest of the family."

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"Is the eighteenth all right with you, Uncle?" 

"Yes, my dear. I think it will be good for you to plan a big event—you haven't had much to do lately." 

"Good. Now, I must fly. I promised to meet with Lark and figure out Evvy's wardrobe." 

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"Let's see now…she needs new everyday, of course…but we can work that out later. What I want to start with is her gown." 

"All right. What color, do you think?"

"Green. It will show off her hair and skin well, and emeralds will bring out those eyes." 

"Yes…what fabric were you thinking of?"

"Well…Jaming, will you go to the third crate in the north woven room's stores and bring it to me, please?

"You see, Evvy, I have a simply gorgeous fabric that I think will be just right for the effect we want." 

"Why…why are you worrying so much, Pahani Sandry? It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"But, Evvy, you're the guest of honor. Besides, how _else_ are you going to get _Pahan_ Briar's attention, if you're not spectacularly accoutred?"

"_Sandry,"_ Lark protested vehemently. 

"Oh, but Lark," she turned from where she had been making Evvy blush, "I really do think that that's the best possible thing for him. And she loves him—don't you?" turning back. 

Evvy, by this time, was not only furiously red but also looking anywhere but at the two mages in front of her. "Ye-e-es."

"See?" Sandry triumphed, spinning once again to face Lark. 

Lark was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep from smiling at the easy arrangements. 

"So, for now, Evvy, we'll leave you in your old clothes, and it'll just be normal, and then, at the ball…he won't know what's hit him."

"Here it is, m'lady," Jaming came back into the room, a box under one arm. 

"What _is_ this, Sandry?" Lark asked curiously. 

"Well…it's something I wove specially…for when I'm in love. But I can spare enough for Evvy." 

"What is it?" Evvy, too, was curious. She began to open the catch on the box.

"Satin."

"And…" Lark prodded. 

"Well…there's charm, glamour, and just the tiniest _hint_ of allurement built in."

Lark began to laugh. 

"It's perfectly respectable…and, after all, everybody needs a little help to catch the eye at first.

"We'll dye it green, that pretty summer green that you get from _aschndal_ lichens, and Jaming can do your hair—I can make do with Harana, easily enough—and you can wear emeralds…"

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There you are!

I know it isn't terribly exciting yet, but the next chapter is where I intend to become so, and the actual action (NOT ACTION-ADVENTURE-BAD-MOVIE type, just non-romance-plot) in…probably ch. 4. Bear w/ me. 

Blayze: Will this do? Don't expect every update so quickly, but in this case, all this is already written in my head, and so is the next chapter, and probably the one after that, so they'll be fairly punctual for a while yet. 

Luv ya, 

Yours 'til ice screams, 

El


	3. Reawakening

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A/N:_ I am beginning to realize that almost NOBODY likes the idea of Briar/Evvy—and I AM sorry. But that's just the way it goes. You'll see, in Ch. 5, why this is so important—but for now, please just trust that I have my reasons and keep up all the good R/R!!_

I, myself, was partial to either Briar/Sandry or Briar/Tris—there's not a whole lot of male-half-of-the-relationships available, are there?—but the fact of the matter is, I feel that TP's consistent reference by Briar to the other girls as "foster-sisters" indicates that there IS no other thought of them in his head—esp. that pointed "girls who were not his housemates" line in Street Magic_. And there are what I feel are VERY good indications of Briar/Evvy in the same book. And there really are REALLY good reasons for not putting Sandry w/ him—I promise. If you really hate the idea, you don't have to read it…but I love my reviews, I really do, and I really like the idea that SOMEBODY out there is reading these things…So pitty pease?_

I do want to assure all of you that NO, Sandry and Pasco do NOT, at any time, wind up together…just in case you missed the impossibility of it in the previous chapter.

Oh, and hey: YES, I decided to give them mage names…Sandry will still be fa Toren in the noble world and Daja, Kisubo in the Trader world, but other than that, they're best known as Sandrilene Spindlespun, Daja Forgespun, Briar Vinespun, and Trisana Stormspun. The Spun Circle—they're very, VERY well known by this point, what w/ the meeting year and all they've done since three-fourths of them left Summersea.

Anyway, yeah, disclaimer still applies, yadda yadda…

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Briar walked into the small antechamber, arrayed in Sandry and Lark's best work, and determined to do his best not to disgrace any of the women he was representing that night—between Rosethorn's tongue, Lark's very-easily-shown disappointment, and the girls' presence in his head, he knew he would very shortly afterward be very sorry. 

The room was crowded with bright colors—Sandy had overridden the dedicates' objections to their guest-of-honor status, and had also decided that now was the correct time to present Pasco to the social and magical elite of Summersea and the outlying districts. Briar found himself bumping against people as he walked over to Daja. 

Sandry herself was chatting quietly in a corner, but when she saw him come in, she and her companion began to tread carefully between trailing hems towards the usual "I'm nervous" conversations that always precludes formal public events. 

Spotting her bright purples as she wove her way towards them, Briar turned to ask, "Are you _sure_ it's too late to…"his voice trailed off as he demanded mentally, _'who—how—_what_ have you done to Evvy, Sandrilene fa Toren?'_

She only grinned her very sweetest dangerous smile at him, and said innocently, "Too late to what? Run? Dearest, if you try to run in those clothes you'll simply _ruin_ all my hard work on that embroidered hem." 

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'Sandry…' "Very true. I suppose I'll have to give up the idea, then," he managed, smiling a trifle forcedly. 

Evvy shot a despairing look at her mentor…that hadn't sounded terribly thunderstruck to _her_…

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'What? I haven't done anything to her. Surely you want her to look nice? After all, I've arranged for some of the handsomest and most talented young mages in Summersea to be here tonight…and I really don't think Daja wants them all…'

"Daja, will you look after Evvy for me? I really must go and stand by Uncle and Aunt for a few minutes before they begin the introductions. Now, remember…Briar, you walk in with Evvy," raising her voice slightly, "Pasco? Remember to escort Mistress Daja. And you three walk in together," she added, looking at the dedicates grouped in a corner. "Now, I really must fly…Gaharan will let you out at the right time." 

As she left, she whispered to her nervous charge, "Don't worry. I promise you, I heard his real reaction, and it was a _great_ review." 

"You look very nice, Evvy," Briar said, kicking himself mentally for the inanity of the remark. (_A/N: Yes, I know it's cliché, but I'd like to _think_ that in this case, the old ones are the best ones.)_

"Thank you, _Pahan_ Briar," Evvy said softly, looking at her slippers as though they held the secret to granite's steadfastness. 

The awkward pause continued. Daja contributed nothing, highly entertained by simply listening to Briar's mental agitation (_really, you don't want to hear the exact wording…it's not only cliché but also involved a great many words that are not appropriate for children and young girls to hear_), and Pasco was eavesdropping on the conversation between Rosethorn and Frostpine. 

The staid footmen received his signal and opened the doors. "Master Pasco Acalon. Mistress Daja Kisubo Forgespun, of the Spun Circle." 

Daja jumped a little, and Briar was suddenly distracted from the tension of his situation. Below, in the ballroom, Sandry's chin went up a little higher. She would have a word with that title-obsessed footman later, she vowed. That was _not_ part of the script. 

Duke Vedris looked down at his niece, amused by the sudden snap in her eyes. 

"Master Briar Vinespun, of the Spun Circle." Sandry's eyes flashed again. "Mistress Evumeimei Dingzai, of Yanjing."

"Dedicates Rosethorn, Lark, and Frostpine of Winding Circle Temple."

Sandry, the duke, and the duchess went to meet their guests. 

"Welcome home," Sandry said simply. "We have missed you." 

The duke, too, spoke without pretension. "Know that your presence here is always a glad occasion. Shall we open the dancing, my dear?" 

"Thank you," Yasmin replied, taking his hand and walking to the center of the floor. Briar silently bowed to Evvy, who (having been trained by Yasmin for the past month) swept a graceful curtsy and laid her hand in his. Frostpine asked for the pleasure of Lark's hand, and Daja accepted a dance with Pasco. 

Sandry turned to Rosethorn with a smile. "Shall we sit this one out?" 

"No need," a haughty voice informed her from behind. "May I have the honor, Dedicate?" Crane asked. 

"Thank you," Rosethorn said. 

"Well then, go on, shoo," Sandry smiled.

Once the couples had taken their place, music began to play. Sandry smiled, assured that at least the first dance would pass without awkwardness. She returned to her seat, a Sandry-smile playing on her lips as she considered her next steps. 

When the dance ended, she swept up to Briar and Evvy. "You really have been practicing, Evvy, haven't you?" she congratulated the girl. "And now you must meet a few of my friends. Excuse us, Briar, will you?" 

'Sandry!_ What am I supposed to do _now_?'_

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'Well, I think it would be nice if you asked Daja to dance. And I must dance the next with uncle, of course, but you may have the third, and then you'll have Lark and Rosethorn, and Aunt, and your friends from Winding Circle…and there's food somewhere. You know how balls work, Bri.'

"Oh, Slagi! Allow me to introduce you. This is Evumeimei Dingzai, a very dear friend of mine. Evvy, this is Slagim Obsidian, a fellow stone-mage. And a _very_ good dancer. And, let me see…this is—"

Even as Briar bowed and asked Daja to dance, he kept a wary eye on the crowd that Sandry was so confidently sailing through, Evvy's arm linked to hers, introductions working like oars. 

"Your Evvy is very pretty, Briar," Daja said matter-of-factly, as the waltz began. Evvy was now dancing with somebody-or-other Diamondchisel. 

"Yes, she is, isn't she," Briar said absently, twirling Daja on two instead of three. 

Daja gave up and concentrated on not getting her feet stepped on. For amusement, she once again was forced to very softly crept up behind her foster-brother's stream of consciousness to listen in.

Having done the duty rounds, and eaten well, Briar tried to approach Evvy for a second dance, but she was always whisked away by Sandry or Daja just before he arrived there. He asked a few other girls to dance, but his heart was not in it, his eyes spent all their time following Evvy almost as closely as her shadow, and he had never before been more relieved to see a last guest go. 

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'I suppose,' he thought grumpily to Sandry, _'I can walk her back up to her room.'_

'Why don't you ask her? It isn't up to me, you know.'

Well, he might be a man, but he knew better than to take that at face value. Thinking things not lawful to be uttered, he walked over to his student. Letting the old Briar charm take over, he joked, "May I see you home, my lady?" 

Evvy played along. "Of course, my lord." 

But as he turned to offer her his arm, she threw a triumphant glance back at the woman who, after all, had known what she was doing. 

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Aieeee! I know I promised the exciting part in this chapter, but it's going to have to wait until next. And the real story won't be in until Ch. 5, I'm afraid. I AM sorry. But next chapter we will see Tris (my personal favorite) and a very, very fun conversation. If that makes up for it at all. 

Thank yous:

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DreamingReader: _Thanks! I'm glad you're willing to give it a try anyway. I know what it's like to read a fic with what feels like a weird ship, but for reasons I absolutely cannot reveal now it is truly VITAL that Briar not be w/ Sandry. And I'm a little sorry for him too, but it was never really more than a schoolboy crush…I promise he'll get over it. _

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Andrea Rimsky: _Geez, girl, you must be psychic! I know I hadn't mentioned Tris's name yet…how did you know that was what I'd decided on? Sorry if I confused you, but I had them all settled in my head before she released any of Circle Opens, and since she didn't replace my ideas with hers, you're stuck w/ 'em. If you missed what I'm talking abt, exactly, explanation in the author's note at the top. _

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Miaka:_ Flattered by most of that—thanks! I hope you decide to stick w/ the fic, anyway…please see what I said to DreamingReader. _

I love you all dearly. 

I remain, 

Yours 'til the kitchen sinks, 

El


	4. Talking it over

_Okay, for complete A/N, see the bottom of the page. Sorry it's so late, I decided I wanted to wait 'til I'd read Shatterglass—and, oh, it's WONDERFUL. But this chapter contains spoilers. _

_Disclaimer still applies. _

_This chapter is dedicated to a wonderful new friend of mine,__ YukimiGryfith , who is supportive of my idea of sense, and to Winged Seraphin, who was willing to be persuaded.. _

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A merry tap sounded on the door. 

Tired Sandry yawned before calling, wearily, "Who is it?" 

"Evvy, _Pahani Sandry."_

Suddenly Sandry felt more awake. "Come in!" 

The handle turned, the door opened, and a radiant Evvy stood in the door. 

Sandry had turned, half her face covered in night cream, and the jar in her hand. "Well?"

Evvy did a little bouncing thing and squeaked, then ran into the room, grabbed her mentor's hands, and began a crazy dance around the room. Sandry was laughing as her half-loosened hair began to swing, getting caught in the smeared cosmetic; her maid watched in amusement. 

Finally, Evvy stopped swinging the older girl around, and Sandry composed herself enough to dismiss the maid, who smiled in understanding and left. 

"I take it it went well?"

Evvy nodded enthusiastically and spun around on her heel. Finally, she opened her mouth: "He kissed me!" 

Sandry squeaked too, and dove for a hug. "You'll have to tell us all about it! Hang on…"(going to the door)"Will you fetch Mistress Forgespun before you go?"

"Now, don't you _dare tell me anything until Daja gets here…but I _really_ hope it doesn't take long." _

A few moments later, the door opened, and Daja appeared in her nightshirt, looking worn-out. "What is it, Sandry?" 

Sandry looked at her protégée proudly, letting her that hath tell the story. Daja looked inquiringly at Evvy. 

Evvy's smile grew broader yet. "He kissed me!" 

"Oh, Evvy, that's _wonderful. I'm so glad for you." Daja hurried over to plop onto Sandry's bed. "Now, tell us __all about it." _

"Well, he asked if he could walk me back to my room, you know, and I was so excited just over that much, but he wouldn't _say_ anything. He was just stalking along, and I was looking at him, trying not to be _obvious or anything, you know, but just watching in case he decided to start a conversation."_

"_Did he?" _

"No—" the older girls rolled their eyes simultaneously—"but when we got to my door,   I said goodnight, and I was going to take my arm from his, when all of a sudden, he just…slid his arm around my waist, and tipped my chin with his other hand…" Evvy's voice had been growing gradually dreamier…"and then…he kissed me." 

Both older girls gave a little sigh. Evvy had a very silly little smile on her face, her eyes half closed. 

Sandry brisked up again. "_Good._ Now we can get down to some serious plotting. You are absolutely _not to wear those clothes again. We have your new wardrobe almost complete…and you'll knock his socks off." _

Evvy grinned. She hadn't quite been able to believe _Pahani_ Sandry before, but now nothing seemed too impossible for the lady.   

There was a knock at the door. "M'lady?" 

"What is it, Jaming?" Sandry asked impatiently. 

"You have a guest. I think your ladyship would want to see her right away." 

"Oh?" Sandry was puzzled. "Send her in." 

The word exploded out of two throats at once: "_TRIS!!!_" 

The copper-curled girl in the doorway grinned maliciously. Sandry went across the room as though hurled by boom-dust, Daja not far behind. For a moment, all three of them were caught in a close embrace. Evvy stood behind them uncertainly, her spotlight burned out and her friends taken up with a stranger. 

But then both of them stepped back, simultaneously. "Now you must meet Evvy," said Sandry, continuing a conversation from their heads. "Evvy, this is _Pahani Trisana Stormspun. Tris, Briar's student, Evvy." The mental footnote to that went something like, 'we're doing our absolute best to get him to fall in love with her—and I think we're succeeding…'_

"Glad to meet you, Evvy," Tris said, holding out a hand and shooting Sandry a glance. "_Pahani," Evvy said, shaking it. _

"Oh, goodness," Sandry said, realising suddenly, "Your baggage is still standing in that courtyard...and where are Niko and your little girl?" 

"They're waiting with the luggage. Glaki is so fast asleep I didn't want to make her come up with me. If you could give orders about rooms, I think Niko would rather do reunions tomorrow, and Glaki really needs to be in bed." 

"All right. Jaming? Will you go down and tell Birsch that I want Master Goldeye in the oak rooms near Master Vinespun, and that Mistress Stormspun will stay in the blue suite in this wing, and the child will be staying with her? And ask them to set up a pallet in one of those rooms."

"Yes, m'lady." The door closed quietly behind her. 

"But _Tris," Sandry said, suddenly remembering that she had cause to be angry. "Why didn't you _warn _me? You could have told me you were coming any time in the past three weeks at __least. Why are you showing up at my door in the middle of the night?" _

"There was word," Tris replied dryly, "even four weeks away, that you were throwing a ball for your returned friends. I had no intention of letting you make _me walk down a staircase and dance and be polite to people. So I kept quiet, and we deliberately slowed down so we wouldn't get here 'til it was over." _

"_Tris—" But Evvy and Daja were already grinning. _

"Oh…I'm too glad to see you to get properly mad, anyway," Sandry admitted. 

_"But_ I can at least tell you," Daja chimed in, "that you missed a _highly entertaining soliloquy. When Briar realised the woman of his dreams was right under his nose…of course, it wasn't exactly pure language, but it was a great deal of fun." _

"Oh?" Tris looked at her sister, feminine curiosity and humor gleaming in her eyes. Evvy was the color of weakened wine again, but she too was looking hopefully at Daja, silently pleading with her to tell on. 

"C'mon, Daj," Sandry pleaded. 

"Well…it was mostly things like, 'That's _Evvy_? _That's Evvy? That's _my_ Evvy?' and then, when you were dancing, 'Is he…he'd better not __touch her…'then he swore at Sandry for introducing you to these people…really, Sandry, he is __not  at _all _happy with you. The rest of it was mostly swearwords. I don't think traveling was good for his vocabulary." _

All three of the others giggled. Evvy was finally beginning to be secure enough in her power to be smug about it. 

"I really don't think you're going to get a pleasant 'good morning' from him tomorrow, Sandry." 

"Oh, Daja, as though I cared. It's for his own good," Sandry said, tossing her sticky hair over her shoulder. 

Tris yawned. 

"Oh, goodness, I'm being a dreadful hostess. Tris, let's get you to bed…Evvy, Daja, you too, but Evvy, don't forget, _I_ get to choose your outfit tomorrow."

All three of her guests shuffled off to bed. Sandry double-checked Tris's rooms, took a peak at the sleeping little girl, and bid goodnight. Returning to her room, she rubbed in the night cream, finished unbraiding her hair, and snuggled into her sheets, worn down by the party and excitement. Perhaps Evvy should wear the blue trousers tomorrow…

A frantic knock came at the door. "M'lady? M'lady? M'lady, come quick! His grace wants you!"

"What?" Sandry was on her feet, pulling on a dressing gown. 

"He's…he's ill, m'lady…he's…" 

But Sandry was already running for the duke's floor of the family wing. 

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_Okay, full author's note and apology…I know I said this would be much sooner than it is, and I'm very, very, very, very sorry. But I've had college trips and exams and been banned from computer use for a while and all kinds of things. And, even though this is INCREDIBLY late, the last chapter of my HP fic took longer than this did, even though I made myself write that first. And then I realised Shatterglass would be out in a week, so I decided that before I wrote this, I would read it…and thank goodness! If I'd been without Glaki in this fic…*shudders*. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, I LOVE MY TP!!!! I LOVE SHATTERGLASS!!!! YAY!!!!!!! I've missed Tris so much. Go buy it, people. _

**Ruthie: _Thank you. I hope you keep reading…and that my delay hasn't put you off! _**

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**Yukimi: _You put some stuffing back into me—thanks! And yes, I'm thinking the original Circle are prob. twenty-four-ish. Yes, according to my calculations, Numair is somewhere between thirteen and sixteen years older than Daine, and George was seven older than Alanna, we know that. It would be interesting to see somebody's reaction to that idea, I agree. Thank you for your support and commentary!_**

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**Superalicia: _I'm glad I'm managing to impress you anyway. Bri's only four years older than Evvy, and I think they'll really work together. Let me know what you think. _**

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**Ravenhood: _Thanks a lot! I hope you do…I swear this won't keep me as long ever again…_**

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**Seraphin: _I'm very, very flattered by that, I'll have you know. I hope you enjoyed it!_**

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**_Okay, everybody, I adore you, R/R, and _**

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**_Button Up Your Overcoats!_**

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**_El_**


	5. Changes

_A/N: I hope this is soon enough for you. Disclaimer still applies, etc. etc. _

Sandry raced her heartbeat down hallways breathlessly, and nearly knocked over the guard trying not to look in her uncle's bedchamber. Too hurried even to apologize, she flung herself down beside the bed. On the opposite side, Yasmin, the duke's wife of eight years, her four-month pregnancy barely showing through her loose nightgown, had her husband wrapped in her arms, her cheek to his. His grace, Duke Vedris of Emelan, struggled for air. Hastily, Sandry tried to wrap her magic around him, as she had twice before. This time, it was neither hold nor bind. Horrified, she clung to his hand and began to weep. 

"Sandrilene," he managed. His lips were slowly turning blue, and often he stiffened in pain, but, as always, he fought his body to make it bend to his will. "My dear…girl…" 

"Yes, Uncle, I'm here," Sandry urged him. 

"Take…care of my people. Watch over them. Keep them from harm." 

"I'll do whatever I can," she promised, hoping that she would manage to keep enough of an influence over her cousins to keep her word.

"And…of my darling," his eyes flickered to the tiny dancer, whose tears were now beginning to streak down her face. 

"That, I can do," she said, softly, following his affectionate gaze with one of her own. 

"And…I don't want to force him on you…but…should you…require an heir…consider…my child…our baby…"

By now, Sandry's emotions were so wound in her thoughts that she simply nodded, kissing the pain-knotted hand she held. Duke Vedris smiled, forced out a soft, "I love you," to his wife and niece, and stopped struggling for air. 

Sandry's tears strengthened, and she reached her other hand across her uncle's body, groping for the tiny, well-muscled hand that soon found hers. They clung to each other in their grief. 

***************************************************************

Two weeks later, the storm of sadness had passed. The country was in mourning. And the Duke had been buried. In the small office where Sandry had spent so many pleasant hours sorting out the realm with her uncle and the Baron, a small crowd was gathered. Relatives that neither Sandry nor the duke had seen in years…even a few that Yasmin had never met…sat in rows, talking quietly amongst themselves. Sandry sat, back still straight, eyes firmly fixed forward, between her aunt and the duke's oldest son. 

The Baron Erdogun fer Baigh, Lord Seneschal to Duke Vedris, stood in front of the room, waiting for the murmurs to die away. To the credit of the propriety—or perhaps merely the greed—of his audience, the crowd quieted almost at once. 

"It is a very sad occasion that brings us together today," he began, eyes still shadowed by his loss, "But his Grace would have wished us, I think, to go on with our lives, with caring for his people, whom he loved, as quickly and as kindly as possible. So, I bid you welcome to the reading of the last will and testament of His Grace, Vedris fer Tureno, Duke, Sole Monarch of Emelan. I will proceed, 

'I, Vedris fer Tureno, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare the following document to be my last will and testament, to insure that my last wishes be carried out, that my family be provided for, and that my people be cared for to the best of my abilities. Said document to be considered as the lawful disposition of my responsibilities and possessions and attested to by my own signature and seal, as well as those of the witnesses selected by me. I include also for the proof of the court the signature of the healer who examined my mind in order that this will might be considered in the eyes of the law to have been made in my right mind and, as such, incontestable on any grounds…" 

The formal phrases droned on. Finally, the legal phraseology came to a close and the disposition of property was announced. To several of Vedris's personal servants went sums of money, personal possessions; to grandchildren went furniture; to his wife, Yasmin fa Tureno, known as Hebet, a large income; to his youngest son, Alan fer Yorkig, a small estate; to his unborn child, to be named by his wife as she chose, a prospering trade venture, a country manor, and a good income; to his daughter, Amalie fa Krandlen, a mirror he knew she admired; to his other children, various holdings and personal possesions; to his great-niece, Sandrilene fa Toren, also known as Spindlespun, his title and responsibilites as sole ruler and protector of Summmersea, Emelan, and the waters and lands connected with that province. Thus did he dispose of his worldly possessions and hope that, as he left this worl— 

"What?" Lord Fratsen fer Tureno, Vedris's eldest son, was on his feet, red-faced. His wife, next to him, was the color of chalk, her limp hair sausage-rolling down her chair back as she stared up at the seneschal in horror. Sandry was shocked at her cousin's behavior—surely he had better manners than to…her ears caught up with her mind, and she stared at the baron herself, mouth hanging open. Beside her, her aunt gave a tiny smile, and squeezed her hand. 

"To my great-niece, Sandrilene fa Toren, also known as Spindlespun, my title and responsibilities as sole ruler and protector of Summersea, Emelan, and the waters and lands connected with that province," the baron repeated, his eyebrow raised, daring the man to say a word. 

Lord Frantsen, never a man of prudence, took the dare. "He can't _do that. _I_ am his heir. I'm his oldest son. Of course I will inherit the throne. This isn't right. It isn't even legal—" _

A small, dessicated man who had been seated unobtrusively in the corner rose. "Actually," he said, firmly, "according to the Laws of Succession, which have been in force in Emelan, and, indeed, in most of the Easterm lands, since the year 300, the ruler may leave his duties and privileges to any member of his own family whom he deems worthy to assume the throne and competent in those matters related to it." 

"Oh?" Lord Frantsen looked perilously close to exploding like a squeezed pustule (in point of fact, he _was_ a squeezed pustule). 

"Yes. And unless you can prove that he was insane at the time of the signing of the will, which will be quite difficult when he had the…er…foresight to have himself confirmed sane by one of the most eminent healers available, there is very little you can do." 

Lord Frantsen stormed out of the room. The Baron looked pointedly at Sandry. "Shall I continue, your Grace?" 

Weakly, she nodded. 

"Now, where was I…oh, yes. 'Thus do I dispose of my worldly possessions and hope that, as I leave this world, I leave behind me no worse memories than I carry with me. Signed, Vedris, Duke of Emelan, and witnessed by Jamson fer Yornan and Clara ei Gathron, with an addendum attesting to his Grace's mental health signed by Moonstream, Dedicate Superior of Winding Circle Temple.' If there are any questions, I will be happy to answer them. For now, I thank you for your time and bid you good day." 

Sandry had pulled herself together. With an icy calm, she stood up and left the room, totally missing the daggers her second-cousin-by-marriage was throwing at her. Everyone instinctively moved out of her way as she headed for the door. The servants, passing by her, pressed themselves against walls. One of them was stopped, and relieved but puzzled to have a stack of crude crockery gently taken away from her. The lady went into a small room that led off her chambers. Originally it had been a closet, but it now stood empty. She closed the door, set down her pile of plates, picked one up, and hurled it at the walls. 

Her maid, startled by the crashes that were coming from behind the door, called in vain, "M'lady? M'lady?" Her knocks going unanswered, she finally fled, looking for someone who could make herself heard. 

*************************************************************

Tris had been sitting with a book, giving half her attention to the words and half to idle scrying. She caught a glimpse of black-draped streets, of the newly sealed tomb, of a butterfly sunning itself on a rock…"Mistress Stormspun?" a timid voice asked. She jumped, and Chime, who had been sunning herself, hissed a little. 

"Yes?" she asked, shaking her head to clear it and wiping her eyes before pushing her spectacles up her nose again. 

"It's…Lady Sandrilene…she's…" 

"Well, what is it, girl?" Tris demanded sharply. "What's wrong with Sandry?" 

"I'm not sure. But she's been…throwing dishes." 

"What?" '_Sandry_?' She demanded silently, _'Sandry, what is—_' She was shut out, but she could sense fear, and anger, and a terrible weight. _'Daja, go up to Sandry's rooms, I don't care what you're doing, this is important.'_

_'What's going on?' her sister demanded, startled. _

_'I don't know, but…feel for her. The maid says she's been throwing dishes.' _

_'SANDRY?'_

_'That's what she says. Briar? Briar?'_

_'What?'_

_'Get up to Sandry's room! She's really upset about something!'_

_'Coming!'___

As the three quickly made their way to the royal family's wing, they continued their anxious conversation. 

'_What's been going on? What could have upset her like this?'_

_'The will was being read today. Maybe something…'_

_'Do you honestly think Sandry would mind if her uncle didn't leave her any money?'_

_'Not Sandry.'_

_'But maybe if that awful cousin of hers wound up inheriting after all, or something…'_

By this time, they had arrived at the door. Inside, they could hear crockery smashing. '_Try all calling together. One, two, three—' _

_'SANDRY!!'___

_'Go AWAY!! I don't want to talk—how could he DO this to me?'_

_'How could WHO do WHAT—' "Oh, just get the lock open for us, Daj. We need to talk to her." _

A few moments later, the door was open, and a saucer narrowly missed Daja's head. Tris pushed past her sister, who was staring in shock, and snatched the last jug before Sandry could fling it, too. Daja recovered from the sight of the bravest person in the world in angry tears, and reached out to gather her sister to her. Briar, too, stepped into the small space, and Tris, after setting the jug on the floor, reached to stroke the emerald-clad silk back. 

'_Sandry?'__ Daja ventured, __'what is it?'_

_'It's me, Daj. He left it to ME. All of it. I'm the Duchess. I'M the Duchess. He made me the Duchess…" _

_'Your uncle?'___

_'Oh, Sandry…'_

_'I don't WANT to be the Duchess…I'm too young…I can't be responsible for all those people…I can't…I just can't…'_

_'Oh, saati…I'm sorry…I know it's a big responsibility…'_

_'But—Sandry—you didn't want any of those other people to rule, you know you didn't.'_

_'I know, little brother, but…'_

_'No buts. You have a duty. You have to protect the people. None of those other people in there will do that. You have to. There's no one else.'_

_'Oh, Tris…I suppose you're right.' _

Having cried her cry and thrown her dishes, Sandry slowly stepped out of her sibling's arms. "Thank you," she said softly. 

"What are we here for?" Briar asked with a grin. 

"Time to face the music," she admitted. There was a coronation to schedule. Squaring her shoulders, she went to go speak to the—her—seneschal. 

*************************************************************

_HAH!! I did it!! _

**_Superalicia: I'm highly flattered by that! Here it is!_**

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**_Seraphin: I'm glad you think I've got my fave TP char. down. I adore Tris, but I've never written her before…_**

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**_Andrea: That…wasn't a very nice thing to do to you, was it? Sorry about that. But it was one of those pre-ordained by the Fates (or rather, the author) things. _**

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**_TGCoY, _**

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**_El_**


End file.
